Page 71 of Bound

Silence was key right then, the gun was good, but the longer I can hide, the better. I didn't want to start shooting if I didn't have to. That would only draw attention, making my silent entry an all out war. I wanted to stay low, I wanted to get in and out with as little blood being spilled as possible.

I was trying like hell to stay true to my word. To not be a killer, to not live for the thrill of taking another man's life.

Because I couldn't lie and say I didn't enjoy it at one point in my past. I did. There was a high that came with that type of power, a rush that couldn't be replicated with anything else.

I was like an addict, walking into a drug-infested party, and trying to stay clean.

I can do this.

Peeking my head over the hood of the Hummer, the man stationed at the door had his arms folded over his chest, and his head laid back. It was hard to tell if his eyes were closed, but he hadn't moved a damn muscle.

With quick feet, I darted across the driveway, and ducked behind a tall, spiraling bush. Listening carefully, I could hear the gentle snore of the guy by the door.

The motherfucker is out.

They're making this too easy.

Standing over the man, I hit him just hard enough to keep him sleeping. His body flopped over, and I caught him before he hit the ground. Pushing him back up, I positioned him the same as he had been, and slipped inside the house.

The halls were dim, the surrounding rooms dark and quiet. With tender steps, I gingerly walked through the foyer and down the hall, heading toward the back of his house.

Soft music echoed through the hall, so I followed the sound. Every room I passed was dark, there were no lights on in any of them. I was drawn deeper and deeper into Marcos's castle, pulled and tugged by the pain in my heart.

Emery was somewhere, and the thought of her being afraid was almost too much for me to bear.

I'm here baby, I'm coming for you.

The music was a symphony of violins and brass instruments that reached high and low tones in tandem. A cackle of laughter mingled with the sweet sound, ruining the beauty the orchestra had created.

“You really are so fucking pretty.” Marcos's voice whispered through the music, making my blood percolate under the skin.

“Fuck you!” Emery spat, her voice battling back tears.

My heart broke, it folded over and dissolved, turning into pieces inside my chest. Just hearing her voice was enough to send me over the edge.

A loud slap rang out, and I heard Emery let out a cry. Every muscle in my body reacted, twitching and tensing into angry strings of rope.

My entire plan to be quiet went out the window. He had put his hands on her, he had caused her pain, and that was something I wouldn't stand for.

All my control was gone, it was lost to the love I felt for that girl. She needed me and I wasn't going to waste another second.

With one hard hit, I kicked the door open. My brain had silenced everything around me, creating this deep void between my ears. It was like the world was put on mute, and all I could hear was my pulse.

Emery was the first thing I saw, her body curled up on the floor as she held her face. Giant raindrop-shaped tears were cascading down her cheeks, her eyes were open wide, glossed over like she tried to removed herself mentally from what was happening.

Marcos growled as his lids thinned, and his eyes met mine. “You're suppose to be dead.”

“Looks like your guys failed again.”

I knew what I had said before, and to be honest, even I didn't believe myself. There was no way in hell I was going to get this far, and not kill the fucker. He deserved to die, he deserved to die over and over for each life that had been lost at his hand.

I wanted him to feel it, I wanted him to suffer. There was a difference between innocent, stupid, and just plain evil. My brother was innocent, Emery was innocent. The men who worked and died for Marcos were stupid.

But he was just an evil bastard.

“Porter, what don't you understand about how this works?” Marcos stepped up beside Emery and started playing with her hair. “You need to die like every other asshole who fucked me over. Stop avoiding the inevitable.”

“I can't do that, Marcos. I won't just let you kill me.” The crowbar was still in my hand, so I held it out to the side like a baseball bat. “Let her go, and then we can talk about what's going to happen to me.”

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